


he loves me (he loves me not)

by weonderlust



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, idk what else to tag, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 02:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7387372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weonderlust/pseuds/weonderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mingyu starts coughing up flower petals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he loves me (he loves me not)

**Author's Note:**

> an au where people literally throws up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. also known as the hanahaki disease.
> 
> OH BOI imagine if this disease was real omfg

Kim Mingyu first meets Jeon Wonwoo in high school. It was your typical scene of typical boy saving typical nerd from typical bullies.

(And of course, the ever so typical sparks flying and falling in love and what not.)

“Oh, you must be Jeon Wonwoo. I’m Kim Mingyu.”

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks frantically, ignoring the rather irrelevant introduction.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Mingyu assures him as the other helps him get up from the ground. There’s bruises all over his fragile-looking legs and Wonwoo can’t help but grimace at the sight. He opens his mouth to say something but Mingyu cuts him off. “And it’s okay, really. You don’t have to get ‘even’ with them.”

“But they hurt you,” he says defensively.

The younger (Wonwoo knows he’s younger because when you have a crush on someone, you _might_ learn a thing or two) laughs softly and waves his hands. “Maybe, I don’t know, maybe they’re hurting on the inside as well.”

“Hating yourself doesn’t mean it’s a reason to hate others.”

Mingyu grins. “True, _but_ sometimes people do need distractions.”

Wonwoo furrows his eyebrows. Mingyu is a really nice person, he realizes. Perhaps, a little bit too nice; always ready to forgive to anyone who did him dirty and smiles plastered on his face as if the world isn’t _that_ bad.

He guesses that’s probably the reason why he knew that his small crush on the younger will turn into something bigger—and bigger it is, as he falls in love with him. Wonwoo tells him just that at end of the year, when the first snow falls and everything feels beautiful and magical and perfect.

It’s been years and they’re still together and Mingyu is forever grateful for that.

But like all things, it doesn’t last.

(Happy endings never do.)

 

×××

 

Mingyu starts coughing up flower petals.

The first time he did, he thought it was nothing. Maybe a rare case of stomach flu, he tries to reason. Something— _anything_ that isn’t what he thought it was.

But after a few times, he slowly runs out of reasons to assure (or rather, fool) himself and gradually becomes conscious of the horrible fact. His knees turn weak at the thought, his breathing is uneven at the cruel realization and he feels like crying because _it can’t be_.

But it is.

 _Hanahaki disease_.

“The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love,” he swallows the lump in his throat as he reads what was stated on the screen of his phone, “where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided lov—”

He doesn’t even finish reading because he throws his phone to God knows where as he bolts right up and dashes into the bathroom, disgorging the petals.

He feels pathetic as he watches the petals. His body is numb and his back hurts like hell. His heart aching, mind racing and tears threatening to fall.

“Mingyu?”

He would stay there for a few more minutes—the whole night actually—but Wonwoo is home and he probably heard the younger gagging in the bathroom.

“Just a sec,” he calls out, his voice hoarse and he cringes.

Mingyu opens the door and he jumps slightly when he is met with concern eyes. Wonwoo leans in. “You okay?”

He tries for a smile.

 _No. I’m not okay. I’m throwing up flower petals because the guy I love doesn’t love me anymore and everything feels like hell, you know?_ He wanted to say just that but he gulps the words down instead. (The same way he tries to gulp down the flower petals.)

“Fine. Just probably ate something bad this morning.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo says and shakes the plastic bag in Mingyu’s face and smiles playfully. “So all these ice cream is mine, then?”

Mingyu manages to let out a giggle but it sounds so bitter. “No, give me.”

A few minutes later, Wonwoo is in the bathroom and Mingyu is eating chocolate-flavoured ice cream, waiting for him to watch a movie.

The white roses in the vase on top of the coffee table is mocking him (he made a mental note to throw those out), reminding him of the fact that his feelings for Wonwoo is now unrequited— _unreciprocated_.

The tears gathering in his eyes are threatening to fall but he quickly blinks them away as Wonwoo walks in.

“So which part of the movie did I mi—”

Mingyu cuts him off, voice shaking. Unconfident and so, so unsure. “Hyung, you l-love me right?”

 _A stupid question, Mingyu. He doesn’t love you anymore. You can literally feel it inside of you. There’s a fucking flower around your heart. Don’t be hopeful_ _—please, please, please don’t be hopeful_.

Yet, he _wants_ to be hopeful. Forces himself to. Because maybe, just maybe, this _isn’t_ the Hanahaki disease and Wonwoo _isn’t_ falling out of love.

But there’s a hesitation. A short pause.

“Of course,” Wonwoo smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

 

×××

 

The lie on his mouth— _nothing_.

The flower petals he throws up at the devil’s hour says otherwise.

 _Everything’s wrong_ , he thinks as he trudges back to the bedroom.

Wonwoo is peacefully sleeping, his back towards Mingyu and he decides not to sleep. He wouldn’t get any sleep, anyways.

So he sits at the table in the dining room with a glass of water in his hand. It’s raining outside and he decides to calm himself by closing his eyes and listening to the sounds of rain droplets falling from the sky— _pitter patter pitter patter_ —as it kisses the Earth.

 

 _You do know it’s raining, right?_ Mingyu asks and Wonwoo laughs and it sounds like a laugh that stars listen for.

_That what makes it more fun!_

The younger laughs. It’s impossible not to when Wonwoo is smiling from ear to ear. _We’ll get sick._

_Then, at least, we’ll both get sick together._

_Together?_

_Together._

 

Thunderstorms brings him back to reality and suddenly, the room feels cold, colder, colder and the raindrops doesn’t sound relaxing anymore.

He opens his eyes and blinks, once, twice and realizes he’s crying. He’s not even surprised, anymore. He’s been crying secretly—out of Wonwoo’s sight and earshot, late at night, in the late wee hours of the morning.

It’s so pathetic that it’s almost _hilarious_.

He’s adding more pain to his heart, more sorrow to help the thorns grow because he’s obviously aware that one day, Wonwoo will have to break up with him.

He just didn’t know it was going to be sooner.

And he surely wasn’t ready to hear those words that spills out of Wonwoo’s mouth like acid on fresh wounds.

 

×××

 

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo takes a deep breath and Mingyu braces himself, sad eyes already filled with tears, “I want to break up.”

He knew it would hurt, he just didn’t know it would _this_ much.

“If that’s what you want,” Mingyu says as stands up from the kitchen table (they were having lunch when Wonwoo blurted it out), smiling as the tears shed. “I’ll help you pack up if you w-want me to.”

His voice cracks at the end of his words and Wonwoo looks at him in surprise (because how could Mingyu just calmly react to that?), expression softening as he walks up to him and proceeds to hug him tightly.

(Mingyu wished he could keep this warmth.)

“Thank you for all these years. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay as long as you wanted me to. Everything just kinda burned out, you know? I hope you understand.”

(Mingyu doesn’t.)

The younger closes his eyes for a moment.

 

He’s standing out in the snow. It’s cold but Wonwoo’s hands are warm wrapped around his. _Mingyu_ , he says like he’s the best thing that ever happened to him and he looks up, _I love you_.

 

He opens his eyes and Wonwoo has his hands wrapped around his but it doesn’t feel warm anymore. It doesn’t feel like… home.

Mingyu opens his mouth to respond but instead of words, he throws up petals instead. Chest tightening and it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, _it hurts_.

“Oh, God,” Wonwoo grabs him by the shoulders. “Mingyu! You okay?”

Mingyu’s breath hitches as he looks into the older’s eyes.

 

 _I love you, too_.

 

“Y-Yeah,” he manages to croak out.

The younger falls to the floor, wrapping his arms around his legs and sighs because _great_ , he just couldn’t control himself, can he? He just _had_ to show the all pain he’s been harbouring for weeks _in front of him_. He mentally curses at the Fates, at any deity nameable.

 “Is this—”

“Flower petals. Hanahaki disease. _Tragic_ , huh?” There’s an ugly taste in his mouth as he said that rather harshly.

Wonwoo drops his knees, cupping his face and stroking his cheeks gently. His hands are slightly shaking, Mingyu realizes. “S-so you knew all along?”

Mingyu nods, not trusting his voice at the moment.

“If you knew,” a tear rolls down his cheeks, “why did you stay?”

Mingyu doesn’t hesitate. “Because even if I knew it was gonna end, I wanted to cherish every moment with you.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry,” Wonwoo pulls him into another hug and Mingyu pats his back.

“It’s not your fault,” _It’s mine,_ he thought. _It’s my fault that I had to continue loving someone even if there were thorns growing in my lungs_ _and my heart was crying for help and begging to put it out of it’s misery_.

Wonwoo is still shaking and Mingyu almost says _I thought I was the only broken one here. I guess that makes us broken pieces of each other, right?_ but he doesn’t. There’s no point, anymore.

Instead, he cups the older cheeks and wipes his tears. “Hey, hey. Please don’t cry. It’s nothing, okay? I’ll fall out of this love, just like you. It’s normal.”

It’s not. Feelings are never normal. Mingyu knows that.

After a while, Wonwoo stands up. “Goodbye, Kim Mingyu. Thank you, once again,” With that, he leaves.

Mingyu closes his eyes again and he cries.

 

_If you can go anywhere in the world, where would you go?_

Wonwoo hums, thinking. _Doesn’t matter. As long as you’re there with me._

 _You wouldn’t leave me?_ Mingyu asks and he leans in, eyes locked with eyes.

Wonwoo kisses him, closing the gap between them. _Never._

 

×××

 

Mingyu gets into a fight with his parents four months later because they still couldn’t believe that their perfect ‘son-in-law’ is gone.

Oh, right. He remembers.

He remembers that his parents adored Wonwoo. He remembers both of them always asking how Wonwoo is doing. He remembers them giving their blessing (even if he didn’t ask for it, yet) to him. He remembers them asking when he was going to ask for his hand in marriage. He remembers. _God_ , does he remembers.

“Wonwoo’s gone. He—” _left me_. No, he didn’t. He simply fell out of love. It burned out, the older said. Just like a match—it lights up, bright and yellow but burns out quick, leaving only a black remainder.

“Why would you let go of him just like that?” His mother snaps at him then gasps when the flower petals he furiously throws up on the carpet answered her question.

“He doesn’t love me anymore,” he clears his throat, looking at his mother dead in the eye as she scrambles to where he is seating to wipe his mouth. “Simple as that.”

“You should at least put up a fight,” his father commented from where he is standing by the window. “At least that would have shown you’re actually worth it.”

Mingyu stays quiet because maybe his father is actually right for once.

After a few nights of constant visits from his parents (because they still expected Wonwoo to be there and still expected their son to just be joking even though he fucking threw up petals in front of their fucking eyes), he’s fed up and stays at Seungcheol’s, one of the people he could trust and actually cares for his well-being.

 

×××

 

Seungcheol pours the hot chocolate in Mingyu’s mug. “That Star Wars movie was really good. Really stirred me up real good.”

“I hope you stirred this hot choco real good, too,” Mingyu says and Seungcheol laughs. “So, what are we watching next?”

“Uh, let’s see,” Seungcheol sets his cup down and rummages through his box of DVDs. Majority of them are Disney and Mingyu snorts.

“Disney, are you serious?”

“Shut up.”

“Wait, let’s watch that one!” Mingyu points to the DVD in Seungcheol’s left hand.

“Lion King, really?”

Mingyu grins mischievously. “Gives a reason to sing the intro.”

Seungcheol mirrors his smile. “Good point.”

The movie starts and in sync, they sing the intro loudly and comically, laughter filling the up the quiet apartment and it feels like old high school days where they would both often have sleepovers, cuddled up in blankets with a pizza box on the table.

The would laugh until their sides hurt and they would talk shit about other people because that’s what best friends do. Seungcheol would always tease the other about his feelings for—

Mingyu instinctively slaps a hand on his mouth.

Of course Fate would play him dirty. It would make him forget about the boy he loved for so many years, give him some time—only hours and a few minutes—of happiness and then yank it back and remind him that he still has feelings for Wonwoo.

He almost forgot that he still has feelings for Wonwoo.

Almost.

He stands up, feeling dizzy again and runs to the bathroom. Seungcheol follows him after and frowns at the sight of Mingyu puking out familiar petals.

“Sad to know that you haven’t moved on.”

 _Sadder to know that I may never will,_ Mingyu thinks. Seungcheol walks to him and pats his back, comforting him and helping him soon after.

Once they’re back on the couch, they both knew none of them were paying attention to the movie.

“Do you want to know what kind of petals they were?” Seungcheol asks and Mingyu nods, curious because of course, flowers have meanings too.

“Iris,” Seungcheol looks at him, ready for the younger’s reaction. “It means hope.”

The movie was long forgotten and instead, Mingyu’s cries and whimperings were the only sounds heard that night.

 

 _Oh, an Iris flower._ Wonwoo points to a plotted plant by the window.

 _Hm?_ Mingyu hums. _Is it? My mom brought it last week._

_They are one of my favourite flowers._

_Why is that?_

_I love what Iris flowers mean._

 

×××

 

Mingyu used to love flowers. Used to be deeply in thoughts about the meanings of flowers (because Seungcheol studies them and would always tell the younger about it) and used to think they’re one of the prettiest things in the world.

But after roughly a year, Mingyu finally had enough of flowers and was so goddamn tired of waking up to see flower petals scattered on his bed and around him, screaming at him: _you, my friend, is still in love!_

As his best friend, Seungcheol tells him that he can actually cure it by removing it with surgery.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Mingyu scoffs, angrily. He’s been suffering for a year and only now, Seungcheol tells him?

“There’s a downside.”

Mingyu srunches his nose. “What is it?”

Seungcheol takes a deep breath. “You won’t have any feelings for him anymore. None. _Poof_ , just like that.”

He doesn’t know which God humans have offended to have something as cruel and wicked as the Hanahaki disease to exist but if he was given the chance, he would apologize for the sake of mankind and their fragile, paper thin hearts.

 

×××

 

It takes Mingyu a few days to decide to take the surgery.

His parents—even though they still love Wonwoo—sighs in defeat because even they know that this is his life and supports him in this decision.

“We’ll meet with the doctor on Monday. Are you really sure about this?” his mother asks as she strokes a few strands of his hair.

“Yeah,” he clutches his heart. “I’m sure.”

His lungs and ribcage are already twisted and tangled with the branches, poking his fragile heart from time to time.

He knows what’s coming for him if this continues.

But there’s a part deep inside of him that he _doesn’t_ want to remove the feelings he has for Wonwoo from him. It’s selfish and cruel to his poor heart which has been abused since he was little.

This dark part—this very, very dark part—actually prefers puking out flower petals and keeping the butterflies he gets when he thinks of Wonwoo than to feel nothing at all.

Mingyu wonders if he has totally lost his mind.

 

×××

 

“Alright, Mr. Kim. This surgery wouldn’t be painful at all but there is a side-effect,” the doctor takes of his reading glasses and puts it on his table. “The petals will be gone, along with the feelings. Are you sure you want to take this surgery?”

Seungcheol said something of the same words. “That’s the reason why I want it gone. I don’t want to continue loving this person, anymore.”

Lies. All lies.

“Just like the rest of my patients,” the doctor coughs. “Humans are sad, sad creatures to be treated like this, huh?”

Mingyu notices there are flower petals in the waste basket and around it. There are bright yellow petals on the doctor’s table, too.

He frowns and nods.

Very, very sad indeed.

 

×××

 

The surgery was a success. No more flower petals, no more waking up at 2 AM to throw up and no more feelings for Wonwoo. The roots in his ribcage and around his lungs were removed, and so was the pain. His chest feels free and light.

“We’re totally gonna celebrate,” Seungcheol says once he was brought home from the hospital.

“I literally just went through surgery.”

“Well, not now, dummy,” he rolls his eyes. “Next week, we’re going to this amusement park that I’m _dying_ to. Please?”

Mingyu laughs. “Of course.”

How could he say no? He doesn’t have to worry about the flower petals. He doesn’t have to worry about getting looks of pity from people when he coughs out a few. It’s okay. _I’m okay_.

 

×××

 

Mingyu sees Wonwoo in a library two years later and invites him over to his apartment to catch up with things.

He knows he shouldn’t have approached the familiar figure but he can’t stop himself. _Wouldn’t_ , even if he tried. _There’s nothing to be afraid of_ , he assures himself.

 _What am I even afraid of?_ He asks, as he scans the man from head to toe. He looks different now. He’s grown taller and he’s wearing glasses. _Oh, that’s right. I’m afraid of falling_ — _again_.

“Wonwoo?”

The figure turns around and his heart no longer races. His mind is clear as the sky—no clouds, just a bright, blue view. His hands don’t shake and he smiles.

“Mingyu.”

(And even though they used to be lovers, Mingyu is kind and patient and was never stingy with love.)

“It’s been a while, huh?” Wonwoo asks before taking a sip of the coffee.

“Three years,” Mingyu pours himself a cup before promptly sitting down next to him. “So what are you up to?”

“Just got a bachelor degree in History. The University of Seoul offered me a job. Kinda got my life planned.”

“That’s good.”

Wonwoo sighs. “But there’s one part of my life that hasn’t been planned yet,” When Mingyu doesn’t reply, Wonwoo looks at him. “Are those petals really gone?”

Suddenly, the coffee tastes even bitter. “Y-Yeah.”

“And that means your feelings for me is gone too, right?”

Mingyu tilts his head slightly. “Where are you going with th—”

“I fell in love, again,” Wonwoo cuts him off, “w-with you. And yeah, I was so stupid to leave you just like that a few years ago. I’m even more stupid to ask for you to take me back right now. I’m sorry, I really am but believe me when I say I love you.”

Everything feels familiar and so foreign at the same but Mingyu doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what to do.

He looks down at his hands, hugging the coffee mug a little too tight it might break. He’s thinking of the right words to say and the correct actions to do because _this was never supposed to happen_.

There’s a silence, then a choking sound and Mingyu looks up.

Wonwoo is coughing up flower petals.

**Author's Note:**

> someone teach me how to fluff bc i cannot, i simply cannot
> 
> cross-posted on aff under the same name c:


End file.
